


Promises Broken, Promises Kept

by polaroidfiction



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pining, Reminiscing, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 21:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19093048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polaroidfiction/pseuds/polaroidfiction
Summary: Before the explosion at the Chantry, Sebastian would have married Alavier Hawke. But Alavier had chosen to save the life of Elthina's murderer, and Sebastian had left him in a rage, vows of destruction and vengeance on his lips.Two years had passed since then, and Sebastian wished he could take it all back. He still loved Alavier. If only he knew Alavier still loved him.





	Promises Broken, Promises Kept

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to cullenlovesmen for beta-ing this fic for me!

Sebastian worried a hand across his jaw as he walked through the palace halls to his quarters. The stack of papers under his arm was heavier than usual. While he felt relief— for the stack was produced that day by massive progress on negotiations and accords between Stakhaven’s vying noble houses— he knew it would be multiple days’ work to do his part in reading and verifying the documents. Already the sheets of his bed were siren call after the days he spent in the hearing chambers, but lately he felt the weight of every stone in Starkhaven on his shoulders.

It was becoming achingly clear that, in due time, Sebastian would be the one to be crowned prince. He stood at the center of Starkhaven’s nobility, heir to the throne by blood and by respect. Even those who had fought for the position through bloody teeth had slowly come to defer to him. They said his dedication to the Chantry did him credit, or his concern for the vulnerable masses. He would be a good prince, and his reign promised stability and hope after terror-filled years.

He cared little for those sentiments, at least so long as they fell from the twisted lips of uncaring lords and ladies. He couldn’t shake them, however, for they echoed the gentle, earnest words of one he’d said he would willingly follow to the void.

Sebastian paused in his stride and took a steadying breath. It had been almost two years since he’d left Kirkwall, since he’d  _ abandoned _ Al— …since he’d abandoned Hawke. It didn’t feel right to call him Alavier after what had passed between them. Sebastian didn’t deserve that honor anymore. It still made his gut feel hollow, knowing what he’d lost.

Hawke had once— no, many times sworn that he would stand by Sebastian when he returned to Starkhaven. He joked that it was because he wanted to know as soon as Sebastian could be married so that  _ he _ could be the one to propose properly. Sebastian supposed that the truth of the matter was that Hawke worried for his safety, or simply wanted to stay close to him. In any case, Sebastian wasn't meant to be here on his own. He certainly  _ wished _ he weren't.

Sebastian took a meandering detour, wandering until he made it into one of the palace’s more secluded gardens. He fell onto a bench, clutching the papers to his chest. The patter of water from a nearby fountain eased some of the tension from his shoulders, but his chest ached the longer he dwelled on thoughts of Hawke.

How childish, to let it affect him so after all this time. Everyone knew the pain of a broken heart. Moreover, it was his own fault. He had turned his back on Hawke, and for what reason? For Hawke trying one last time to save a friend from himself? For him acting on the very same loyalty and compassion that Sebastian had fallen in love with? He’d taken it as a personal betrayal: Hawke had chosen  _ Anders _ over  _ him _ . He had refused,  _ as always _ , to see beyond himself. 

 

_ “He dies, or I am returning to Starkhaven. I will bring such an army on my return that there will be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarum to rule.”  _

_ “Sebastian,  _ don’t _ —” Alavier’s voice broke even as he shifted himself to block Anders from view. His face was fraught. “I can’t—” _

_ How he wanted to push past Alavier and kill the mage himself. But Alavier had made his choice, and in the end he was a bulwark that Sebastian could never hope to sunder. Instead, he squared his shoulders. “I will not fight you, Hawke. My death now would serve nothing. But I swear to you, I will come back and find your precious Anders. I will teach him what true justice is!” _

 

Shame crawled about his heart when he recalled those, his final words to Hawke. He’d felt no guilt at the time; Elthina was dead, and Anders her killer. His vengeance—  _ always vengeance _ — was righteous. Were he an inch more a fool, he might have foregone caution and hurt Hawke, even killed him to get to Anders. Sebastian dared not think of where he would be if he’d gone that far. He didn’t even know Hawke if would have fought back.

Sebastian shuddered. If his options were to kill Hawke or to leave him, Sebastian was at least thankful he'd chosen the latter.

Sebastian had tried to contact Hawke since then. Once he’d found purchase among the nobility, he drafted an offer of asylum for the Champion of Kirkwall in the wake of Anders’ actions. Later, away from the prying eyes of the nobility, he'd placed with it a more personal letter. He didn't ask for forgiveness he didn't deserve, but only to know that if Hawke did not come to Starkhaven, that he was safe and taken care of. He’d sent the missive to Varric, the one person who surely knew where Hawke had gone. However, after weeks with no response, he resigned that either Varric had ignored it along with the rest of Sebastian’s letters, or that Hawke had silently refused his offer. 

Sebastian would understand, however sorrowfully, if the latter was the case. Hawke was a being of compassion and merciful to a fault, but he saved no room in his heart for those who wouldn’t yield in the name of peace. Telling him to kill his friend on threat of razing an already burning city certainly placed Sebastian in that category. Even Elthina wouldn’t have forgiven him that. 

(Of course, he never made good on that threat. Anyone who had seen the city that day would know that Kirkwall needed aid, not further violence.)

Sebastian cast his eyes upward to the stars, trying to distract himself by picking out the few constellations he could remember. He could see the silhouette of his balcony from here, peaking out past the corner of the hall that housed his quarters. He spied the figure of a servant looking to the sky just as he was, perhaps taking a breather before moving on to clean the next room. He couldn’t blame them; for all of Starkhaven’s faults, it surely had the best view of the stars in all the Free Marches. 

A warm breeze fluttered the edges of the papers Sebastian still held, drawing him back to the present. He sighed as he stood, but he resumed the trek to his quarters with less rush than before. His work was his own. Let the servant enjoy their reprieve.

Or… perhaps they didn’t get the chance. When Sebastian finally rounded the last bend to his room, he found the hall clogged by a group of guards, all being eyed warily by an elderly woman in Orlesian nightclothes. The double doors to his room stood wide, a few of the guards talking amongst themselves as they passed in and out.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Sebastian demanded as he approached.

Recognizing him, the nearest guard snapped to attention. “Mi’lord, there was an incident. Our Lady, ah…” she turned to the woman.

The woman growled with all the tenor of an angry pomeranian. “ _ Marseille _ , cousin of Compte Leblanc of—”

“R-right. She’s staying a room down from yours, mi’lord. She saw an intruder on your balcony and summoned the guard. We’re looking into the matter, mi’lord, but so far as we can tell he fled upon his discovery. You can see he left his rope looped through the rail, there.”

Sebastian had spotted not a servant, but a thief? He examined the room while the guard turned to placate Lady Marseille. His bed was undisturbed, the sheets still neatly pressed, and beside it the drawers of his desk remained locked. On the opposite side of the room, his wardrobes and bookshelves, too, seemed untouched. He made his way out onto the balcony,  where one soldier stood shouting orders to another on the ground below. Sebastian peered over the rail and saw the rope swinging slowly in the evening breeze. There was no other sign to indicate there had even been an intruder at all.

He informed a soldier that nothing had been taken— not that he had anything of value to take. But why would a thief have lingered in his room, which he kept so bare of any valuable material things? Perhaps he had been looking not at the stars, but at possible escape routes.

“I saw him from below, but I assumed he was a servant—” Sebastian commented.

“That man was  _ no _ elf,” Lady Marseille cut in, pushing her way into the room. Sebastian wanted to tell her that the palace was served by more than just elves, but she continued. “He wore a black cloak and stood tall and broad as you and had a beard like a mangy  _ goat _ —”

“Mi’lord, if I may,” the guard said, mercifully cutting off Lady Marseille once again, “we must join the search below. I can station a guard to your quarters, though her ladyship has already…  _ requested  _ two for her own.”

“No, thank you. Attend to your duties, and alert me when the thief is found,” Sebastian said, finally seating himself at his desk with the stack of papers in front of him.

“As you were, mi’lord. Goodnight.”

Sebastian rested his head on his knuckles and listened with closed eyes as the guards and the shrill voice of Lady Marseille filtered away from his room. He faintly recalled seeing the name Marseille on a register of Orlesian diplomats staying in the palace. Their work was largely unimpressive drudgery, but they would remain in Starkhaven for a full month. Sebastian already expected to spend far less time in his quarters so long as that woman was his neighbor.

Once the door clicked shut, he let out a heavy sigh. He’d lied to the guard;  _ one thing _ was missing, the  _ one thing _ he left on the bare surface of his desk, the  _ one thing _ that might be worth a bit of coin, but it was nothing he wanted anyone to know about. Really, he should have gotten rid of it when he left Kirkwall, but even his blinding, foolish rage couldn’t make him discard it. Not after it had adorned his finger for so long, hidden always from Elthina by his glove.

Sebastian attempted to bury his disappointment under his work, lighting a candle and picking up the first sheet of many to reread for approval. He’d not gotten through four lines, however, when his ears caught sound coming from outside. He cocked his head slightly, and heard the straining of rope and quiet huffs of breath. The thief was  _ coming back? _ In one motion Sebastian drew his hidden knife from his boot to his hand. He swiftly padded to the side of the door, standing just out of view of anyone on the balcony.

The thief landed softly on the balcony and hurriedly ducked inside the room, clearly learning from his previous mistake. Marseille had at least spoken the truth; the thief was certainly not of elven stature, and he wore a full-length black cloak with a large hood pulled up over his head. He paused in the middle of the room, shifting only slightly, as though confused. The hood folded as he turned his head to examine his surroundings. Sebastian shifted his grip on the knife and moved silently to block the thief's escape route. Just as the thief spotted him and flinched in surprise, he said, “I suppose it would be too much to  _ ask  _ you to return my ring.”

But the thief only gasped, “Sebastian!”

The voice struck Sebastian dumb, and for a moment the only sound in the room was the clatter of his knife on the ground. The thief tore his hood back, and Sebastian stared in disbelief as Alavier Hawke took a hesitant step towards him. Sebastian almost thought it wasn’t him, and took a reflexive step back. Alavier’s usual stubble was now more akin to a rough beard (though Sebastian couldn’t see any goatish resemblance, unkempt as it was) and his deep red hair, too, had grown long and unruly, falling loose well past his shoulders. Under it, his terracotta skin was burnished by the sun and stained faintly with dust and grit. But his eyes, green as the forests outside the city walls, still shone brightly. There was no mistaking them.

“I… I got your letter,” Alavier said softly. “I’m sorry about the theatrics, but I had hoped to find you alone rather than do anything public. I… well, things didn’t go quite to plan.”

“Letter?” Sebastian blinked, still reeling. “I haven’t… the offer of asylum?” 

Alavier nodded. 

Sebastian felt weak. Alavier had gotten the missive. Alavier was  _ here _ . “Then, you… I thought you’d turned it down—!”

Alavier closed the distance between them in a single stride, and suddenly Sebastian was caught in Alavier’s arms. Sebastian knotted his hands in the cloth of Alavier’s shirt and hid his face in his shoulder. “Turned it down?” Alavier said with a choked laugh. “I might have come even before it found me, but I thought you  _ hated _ me—”

“Maker, no!” Sebastian exclaimed. “I was foolish. I shouldn’t have threatened you and I shouldn’t have left you to fight on your own, but… by the time I understood that, you were already gone.” Sebastian pulled back enough to push Alavier’s waves of hair behind his ear and look him in the face. “If I could, I would undo every moment I’ve been apart from you. I’m sorry, Alavier, for all of this. If you can forgive me, if you would stay here—”

“Seb!” Alavier sounded almost exasperated as he pulled Sebastian against him again and kissed his forehead. “Don’t ask me for forgiveness. I came here because I  _ love  _ you. I’ve missed you more than words can say. You’d have to throw me from the balcony to make me leave now.” 

Sebastian shivered as Alavier carded a hand through his hair. It had been so long since he’d felt touch beyond handshakes and brushed shoulders. He pulled himself tighter against Alavier’s body, wanting that he should never leave his enveloping warmth. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Alavier’s temple, then his cheekbone. He hesitated there, his lips just brushing the skin. He ached to move lower, to kiss him in the ways his vows in Kirkwall had forbidden. 

But they weren’t in Kirkwall anymore.

The first touch of their lips was soft, chaste as such a gesture could be. Alavier faltered and pulled back, an unspoken question in his eyes. Sebastian smiled despite himself; Alavier had never pushed against his boundaries, whether they arose from his position as a Brother or some place more personal. “I left the Chantry to take up my titles,” he explained quietly, blushing, “I am no longer held by my vows, and I—”

Sebastian was silenced by Alavier’s lips on his, warmer this time. He could feel Alavier smiling; he had wanted for this just as long as Sebastian. Sebastian’s chuckle broke the kiss, but he returned with more fervor, his hands moving to Alavier’s waist. Their lips moved in time, punctuated suddenly by gasping breaths and shuffling footsteps towards the bed. Alavier’s teeth grazed Sebastian’s lower lip, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. How long he’d craved this touch— no,  _ any _ touch, that every point of contact now burned like a hot iron. It made his heart pound out of his chest. 

Every part of him screamed for more, but he feared that even this would soon be  _ too much _ . It _hurt_. Maker save him, he couldn’t— 

Sebastian forced himself away and out of Alavier’s arms. “I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered, looking away from Alavier as he waited for the trembling in his limbs to stop. He became painfully aware of the cool night breeze coming in off the balcony as it raised goosebumps on his skin. “I’m not… I wasn’t ready.” 

It was embarrassing, really. Only moments had passed since he invited this, and it wasn’t as if he had never been so intimate before. He  _ wanted _ to kiss Alavier, to feel his touch, to lay with him. He had wanted it for years, but now that he might allow himself those things, his very body protested.

Alavier hooked a couple fingers through Sebastian’s, disrupting his thoughts. “Are you ok?” he asked. Sebastian looked back at Alavier and found none of the disappointment and frustration that plagued his own mind. There was only worry and care for him. The selfless bastard.

Sebastian slowly nodded. Alavier used his free hand to rub light, careful circles on Sebastian’s upper arm. “We can take our time. I’m not going anywhere now.”

“Can you promise me that, Alavier? I’m not losing you again.” Sebastian’s words came out with more force than he intended, but it was the truth. He still could hardly believe that Alavier had so suddenly appeared, and he didn’t intent to let him vanish now.

Alavier seemed undisturbed as he considered the question. After a moment, he released Sebastian and took a step back. He reached under his cloak, and produced the stolen ring. It was merely a plain gold band, but it gleamed in the moonlight. “Do you remember why I gave this to you?”

“It was…” Sebastian began, thinking back to that snowy night. “It was Satinalia, four years ago. You wouldn’t join the Chantry, so we couldn’t get married. You gave me that ring instead, and said that it would be your promise to me until—”

Wait a minute.

“... until the day you found a way for us to be wed.”

Alavier nodded. “When I found the ring on your desk— I didn't mean to steal it, but I didn't have time to put it back when I was spotted— I thought, I  _ hoped  _ it meant you would let me keep that promise.” He paused, searching Sebastian’s face. Sebastian found himself suddenly paralyzed, his heart galloping again, though now for an entirely different reason.

“If you truly want me to stay, and Andraste knows I will…”

Alavier took Sebastian’s hand in his. Sebastian didn’t know which of them was the source of the tremor in the grip. Alavier took a breath, and lowered himself to a knee.

“Marry me, Sebastian Vael. Marry me, and now that the Maker himself will have to intervene to stop me from coming home to you.”

Sebastian's eyes blurred with tears as he clutched Alavier’s hand. He pressed the back of his other hand to his eyes, trying to blot the tears away before they fell, to little avail. 

“Seb?” 

Alavier’s voice broke through the flood of emotion. Sebastian made half an attempt to form the word before he settled on emphatic nodding. 

“Yes,” Alavier gasped as he stood, “Maker, he said yes! You know how long I’ve waited—!” He hugged Sebastian around the waist and spun him with a joyous holler. Sebastian’s laughter sounded half-akin to sobs as he held Alavier’s shoulders, the tears now flowing freely.

“Mi’lord! Mi’lord Vael! We heard shouting, are you alright?”

Sebastian felt Alavier’s grip slip at the voice behind the door. Sebastian cursed and felt himself flush bright. Alavier set him on his feet and moved as to hide, but Sebastian grabbed his hand again.

“Messere, I’m coming in—”

“No!” Sebastian barked. “I’m quite alright! Return to your post!”

“Are you certain, mi’lord? We can—” A second voice joined the first.

“Maker’s  _ breath _ , can’t a man get betrothed in peace?!” Sebastian cried.

The silence on the other side of the door was surely a bewildered one. As it stretched on, Sebastian’s anger broke and he collapsed against Alavier in a fit of giggles. He imagined he would later regret making such a bold statement, if only for the rumors he would surely wake to tomorrow. For now, though, he was a man at last engaged to be wed.

"Seb, love, you— I need you to— you have to let go so I can put the ring on, my dear."

Seb hadn't realized how tight his grip on Alavier's hand was, nor had he noticed him tugging against it as he laughed. He let go, face still pressed in the crook of Alavier's neck, and Alavier slid the ring back into its place. 

They stayed that way in silence, Sebastian leaning on Alavier with their hands intertwined and smiles on their faces. Sebastian lifted his head with a content sigh and pressed a kiss to Alavier's cheek.

"What happens now?" Alavier asked.

"Nothing that can't wait until morning. Did you have something else planned?"

"I promise you, no plan I could have conceived involved almost getting arrested for thievery and then proposing with a stolen ring. Truthfully, though, I wasn't even sure I'd find you before I got into trouble."

"I was under the impression that you were supposed to be the pragmatic one," Sebastian teased. "Did you bring supplies, at least?"

Alavier rolled his eyes, but smiled reassuringly. "I did that much. My pack is hidden under the bridge just outside the palace. A couple changes of clothes, my armor and weapons, a bit of food, and so forth."

"We can send a servant for it in the morning. In the same breath that we explain who you are and why you're here, I imagine."

"I suppose they wouldn't take kindly to finding their thief sharing a bed with their future prince." Alavier blushed and glanced aside as he added, "Unless you intended for me to sleep somewhere else, of course."

Sebastian scoffed. "After all this? I should think not. Here, I have spare nightclothes."

A few minutes saw them both changed and huddled under Sebastian's blankets. Sebastian assured Alavier that he was comfortable being held; sleepy cuddling was a far cry from the heated snog that had overwhelmed him before. He let out a deep sigh as he curled into Alavier's chest.

Hardly an hour ago, he'd been despairing for his lost love. Perhaps they should not have rushed into betrothal after so much time apart; there would certainly be much to discuss in the coming days. It was unclear to him just what their marriage would bring them, especially once Sebastian was crowned. After all, the prince would be expected, sooner or later, to produce an heir. Still, they'd discussed marriage at length in Kirkwall. Perhaps he could argue that this was fulfilling promises already made.

"You're getting tense," Alavier commented. "Something wrong?"

Sebastian was unsure how to answer. But as he looked into the kind eyes of his future husband, calm overcame his doubt. He was safe. He was loved. Everything else would settle with time. Threading his fingers through Alavier's hair, he said with a smile, "No, my love. This is perfect."


End file.
